Lost
by BrynnH87
Summary: This is an AU where Jim is a child who has been diagnosed with autism and lives in a residential facility. Blair is already an adult. Honorable Mention winner in the LMFA Awards .


**Title:** Lost

**Author:** Brynn

**Author's Notes:** This is an AU where Jim is a child, but Blair is an adult, therefore, cannon has pretty much left the building.

Special thanks to Debbie Tripp for the beta work.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything connected to Sentinel, nor have I made any money with this story. I just like to take them out to play every now and again.

Lost

By Brynn

I arrived at the Cascade Center for Emotionally Disabled Children just moments before I needed to clock in…running a little late this evening because of the rain. I hurriedly removed my raincoat, shook the water from my hair, and plopped my purse in the cubby provided. I clocked in, and was about to review the patients' charts when I saw Jimmy Ellison sitting by the window, staring intensely at the rain beyond. The twelve year old autistic boy often did this when it rained; he seemed to just check out of the real world. He didn't blink or move, or seem to hear anyone around him. Sometimes he would sit like this for almost a half an hour.

I walked over to him and talked to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Sometimes that helped when he was like this, but then again, sometimes it didn't. Today it didn't. I made sure he was in a safe position, and then went about checking the charts of the rest of the patients.

I'd worked here for the better part of a decade and found that I quite enjoyed it. I had never married, and didn't have any siblings…therefore no nieces or nephews…so this was my chance to play mom…if only "dorm mom". We all tried hard not to have favorites, and tried even harder not to show favoritism, but, we all seemed to have a child or two with whom we had a special rapport. Jimmy was that child for me.

He had been here most of his life, much like several of the other children. His father had brought him in when he was just four. He had reportedly reached all of the childhood milestones up to that point, but when his mother left the household, just after the birth of his baby brother, he had grown increasingly distant. His father said he would have periods of intense reaction to stimuli, while at other times he wouldn't react to anything. It had become impossible, or, in my opinion, just undesirable for the older Ellison to keep the boy at home, so he was abandoned here. His father hadn't visited in the eight years his son had been here, though the staff contacted him by phone periodically. It was such a sad thing to see a child with no family to care about him. Jimmy was such a lovable little boy, and we all felt we benefited greatly from knowing him, but he always seemed to be so alone…so lost.

Some hours later, I noticed that Jimmy had stopped staring at the rain. No one had quite figured out what brought him out of these periods, or what caused them in the first place for that matter, but usually Jimmy would draw afterwards. The pictures were always the same, a young adult male, with long curly hair, and compassionate eyes.

Jimmy's records listed him as a "savant". He had the impressive talent of being able to draw anything he saw in almost photographic detail. We hung his pictures in the halls, on office doors, and just about any surface we could find, as they were beautiful drawings, and there quite a few of them. We kept trying to hang them in his room, but the only ones he allowed on his walls were the ones of the unknown young man that he drew after his "absent periods". As far as any of the staff knew, there was never anyone working or visiting here who would have matched that description. We had asked literally everyone who worked at the Center. We gave copies to each department, and most of them displayed the picture somewhere prominent, as they were just such beautiful drawings.

We finally just assumed it was someone Jimmy was remembering from his time at home. We had even gone so far as to fax a copy to his father to confirm this, but the older man replied curtly that he didn't know anyone who looked like that, and asked us not to bother him with the boy's fantasies in the future.

Later that night, I and several other staff members ran from the break room after hearing blood curdling screams coming from Jimmy's room. This was the other extreme that the boy lived with. Sometimes it seemed that everything in his environment hurt him. Tonight, he was clawing at his arms and legs, trying to get his pajamas off. He had flung away the cover much earlier in the evening. We tried our best to cater to Jimmy's sensitivities. We washed his clothing in mild, perfume free detergent. I had brought him an extra soft cover. My mother had given me one just like it for Christmas, and I had immediately thought of how Jimmy would enjoy the feel of it. He usually did too. So, when we noticed it on the floor, in the far corner of the room, earlier in the evening, we knew we could probably expect one of the "sensitive periods" from our young charge this evening.

We never knew just what in the environment he would be sensitive to. Sometimes, he'd cover his ears and scream for no apparent reason. We had long ago learned to try to anticipate the slightest sound changes in his environment. Ones that were either new or persistent seemed to be the most troubling to the boy.

Other times, it seemed to be his sense of smell that was bothering him. One evening, I came in to work to find him drawing at the table. He immediately looked up at me, wrinkled his nose, and ran to his room. When I followed him, to see what was wrong, he grabbed the box of tissues from his night stand, and began to stuff them, one by one, up his nose. It took three staff members to get them away from him, and clear his nose of the foreign material. In the mean time, I gathered that the problem must be some smell on my clothing. At least, I hoped it was on my clothing, and not on my hair or skin, as I couldn't do much about those. The clothes I could fix. I always kept a change of clothing at work, in case of accidents, which actually happened quite frequently here. Once I changed my clothes, Jimmy let me come close to him again, returning to our usual friendly relationship. I never did figure out for sure what might have caused the problem, though I realized I had changed laundry detergents at home just several days before. I threw it out when I got home, and returned to the old brand, just in case.

Months later, on one of my daylight shifts, we were having a staff meeting about Jimmy. We had all noticed his behavior changing lately. He seemed to have more and more "sensitive periods". We often couldn't locate a catalyst, no matter how hard we tried. He also seemed to have more frequent, and longer "absent periods". Rubbing circles on his back, or talking to him hardly worked anymore. Sometimes the episodes lasted over an hour. When he wasn't "absent", he drew, which wasn't really different, but now his drawings were almost exclusively of the curly haired man. Whereas just months ago we felt we managed Jimmy's condition pretty well, we now all felt we were losing ground.

The doctor on staff had examined him for any physical changes, and had ordered some tests, just to be sure there was nothing wrong, but he couldn't find anything yet. He was concerned about his physical condition, however. The boy had all but stopped eating and had withdrawn socially. Jimmy had never talked, since being brought to the Center, but was usually social in his own way. He'd come up to selected staff members, and seemed to want to be talked to. He'd climb up beside us on the couch when we were watching TV with him and the other children, or he would pull a chair up next to one of us, whether or not another child was already there, when we were seated around the table having snack with the kids. He was careful not to touch us very often or for very long, and refused hugs or other physical displays of affection, but he did reach out in his own way.

Somewhere in the last several months, all of these behaviors had faded away, so gradually that we almost didn't notice. We were all so worried about the boy we cared about so deeply.

Our meeting was called short when we heard the screams. We had never seen Jimmy quite like this. He was ripping at the curtains, seemingly trying to close them, squinting his eyes closed, tightly, while he screamed. But he also periodically banged his ears with his fists, and clawed at his shirt. All the sensitivities we knew the boy had seemed to be attacking him at once. More frightening than all of that, however, was when he dropped to the floor, suddenly silent, staring straight ahead, not moving.

He hadn't fallen unconscious, as we had first feared. He was having one of his "absent periods". We all were familiar with them, but had never seen one happen so suddenly, just after one of the "sensitive periods". We tried everything we knew to bring him out of it, but nothing seemed to work.

The minutes drew into an hour, and then almost two and Jimmy still sat fixed on the floor. Our worry increased. By the time the doctor got there, it had been an almost three hours, officially the longest of these episodes that Jimmy had ever had since coming to the Center. As we settled him in bed as best we could, it approached four.

News of Jimmy's condition spread through the facility like wildfire. This was really scaring all of us. How did we bring him out of this? The doctor was arranging to have him transported to the hospital for further tests as it passed the five hour mark of our vigil.

And then we heard it…a quiet voice speaking to a staff member at the door to the ward.

"Hi. I was downstairs, applying for a job, when the lady in Personnel took one look at me, gasped and said I was hired, and that I should report immediately to this ward. She said you all would know why. Not that I'm not grateful for the job and all, but could someone let me in on what's going on?"

As I looked out from Jimmy's room, I saw that the staff member was frozen to the spot, and I immediately knew why the Personnel Department sent this young man to us. He looked a little older than he did in some of the pictures, and his hair was a little longer, but I knew that face. It was plastered all over the bedroom wall of my favorite little boy in the world.

I ran out to meet him, not believing my eyes. Was this a coincidence? Was this someone that knew Jimmy when he was little? How could this man possibly be standing here?

I led him to the boy's bedroom, and told him that I had his first assignment. He stopped dead when he saw the child on the bed.

"Jimmy," he whispered, "I didn't truly think you were real."

He took several steps toward the bed and saw that the boy was staring and unmoving. He hurried over to the bed and touched Jimmy's hand. "Come on, man, come on back now." He put his hand on the boy's head, and Jimmy looked at him.

"Hi Chief," were the first words anyone had ever heard our young charge speak. Then, even more unbelievable, Jimmy reached out for a hug.

I had no idea what was going on here. It all seemed so mystical and unlikely. But, I didn't care. None of us did. All we cared about was that our little boy was back, better than ever apparently, and the mystery of the curly haired man had been solved… at least as much as it was likely to be. Suddenly we weren't worried about Jimmy any more. The immediate crisis had passed, and, more importantly, Jimmy seemed more connected than ever. Suddenly, he didn't seem quite so lost.

The Beginning

**Author's Notes:** I am in the process of writing a companion piece to this, from Blair's point of view, that will continue a little farther after they meet.


End file.
